


Matroyshka

by Royce_Clayton



Series: Sojourn [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blow Jobs, Breeding Kink, Connecting Through Trauma, Crafty Mishima, Cuddles, D/s, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Heat Sex, Highschool Underage, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Muscle Kink, Nesting, Omega/Omega sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Rimming, Smut, Spoilers, Subdrop, Subspace, Tattoo Kink, dick piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royce_Clayton/pseuds/Royce_Clayton
Summary: Summoned to the school rooftop, Akira finds Mishima starting his heat and hiding away from the volleyball team. Kamoshida may be gone but his insistence that Mishima ignore his suppressants, and his promise to throw the poor omega to the team as a reward, remain.Luckily Akira knows a perfect place to take the skittish teen to ride out the heat safely, a little slice of heaven tucked away behind a hidden wall in Untouchable. Mishima expects the worst when he's introduced to the alpha owner, Iwai, but the older man proves to be far from the omega's opinions of a typical Alpha. The two omegas share their stories, and eventually, due to extended proximity, their heats, growing closer. Iwai gets dragged into the mix by a sneaky move on Mishima's part, to show his thanks for their gentle care. But can he overcome all the pain and mistrust in his heart, and let someone in?Or someoneS?





	Matroyshka

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what came from my prototype scene Copper. It's pretty different, but I found that those two needed a sort of middle ground to balance out. So enjoy these three's dynamic!

**_Can you come to the roof?_ **

Grey eyes flickered over the message as he read it, and his fingers hovered over the keys, a response to call off any palace runs today at the tip of his tongue.

“Why’s Mishima up there??” Morgana asked, whiskers tickling Akira’s cheek as the cat nosed its way over his shoulder to read. 

The dark haired teen reread the message and frowned. It  _ was _ Mishima. He’d thought it was from one of his team mates. Shrugging his shoulders, and ignoring the bite of the cat’s claws as he held on through the movement, Akira swiped away from the message to check and see if any of the others were free.

**_I’m sorry._ **

**_Please._ **

“He’s...insistent today.”

“Yeah…” The teen frowned down at the screen before sighing, his thumb dancing over the keys as he turned and headed out of the classroom. He stopped by the stairs for a moment when he saw Ryuji slouched against the wall and waved his friend off for the day before heading upwards. He didn’t even look up from his phone as he made his way through the blocked off corridor, the barrier signs returned now that the Phantom Thieves had moved house. 

Akira pressed open the door and stepped out onto the rooftop, a gust of wind whipping at his face before calm returned and with it came a scent. And Akira understood just what Mishima had been thinking in coming up here.

“It’s open air,” Akira said, eyes sweeping the place in search of the other teen. “So the pheromones dissipate with the wind.”

There was the sound of shuffling feet, and then the blue fluff of Mishima’s hair peeked out from behind one of the ducts, eyes large and blinking owlishly.

“Morgana, why don’t you head home,” the dark haired teen murmured. The cat, who’d always been sensitive to the strong scents of heats, didn’t even argue, instead hopping off his shoulder and heading back down the stairs.

“A-Akira…”

It wasn’t like Akira could even pretend to be surprised. Mishima had Hollywood Stereotype omega written all over him: sweet, fragile, submissive as all hell, the shrinking violet debutante that all those cheesy harlequin romances pictured on the cover.  Why in the hell any omega in this day and age would have a public heat, though, now that was a good question. The school had leave days for that kind of thing, because teenagers were horny enough  _ without  _ the biological impulses that come-fuck-me-fumes triggered.

“Where the hell are your suppressants?” Akira didn’t mean to snap, and immediately felt like a wretch for doing so when Mishima’s eyes shot to the ground and he disappeared out of sight again. “I didn’t-” The taller teen sighed, gathering his thoughts and priorities. “How far along is it?”

“Uh-uhm…” The shakiness of his voice gave Akira a good idea. “I...I can make it home. Just. I can’t. Alone. They’ll find me.”

Grey eyes turned steely behind glasses. “You shouldn’t be here today.”

“I-I know that!” Mishima sounded miserable.

Akira stepped forward, coming around the structure to find his friend huddled up in a ball behind it, hugging his knees, face buried in his arms. The skin he could see was shiny with sweat, but the physical heat of his presence was a dull sensation still.

“I...forgot.”

Akira rolled his eyes. “It’s the one thing—”

“I forgot...he wasn’t here...anymore…”

That stopped the leader’s thought process dead. He stared hard down at the other boy, at the way his body shook, shoulders trembling, little hiccuping sounds giving away his tears. Twice, Akira opened his mouth to speak, but found the words dead and meaningless on his tongue. He closed his eyes and knelt down.

“Is it okay to touch you?”

“You don’t have to—”

“ _ Not _ ...not like that.” Akira shook his head, looking down for a moment before looking back at Mishima. “I just know that Non-alpha touches can burn when I’m in heat…”

The shaking teen’s head shot up so quick, Akira wondered if he’d snap his own neck, tear tracks fresh and clear leading from reddened eyes open wide in shock. “You’re…?” When Akira gave a nod of confirmation Mishima sank, burying his face in his hand. “I had no idea. I thought for sure you were an alpha. You...you smell like an alpha. Faint, but still.”

The raven had the decency to blush as he scratched at his cheek. “That’s...that’s not  _ my _ scent you’re smelling. I don’t really  _ have _ a scent, or so I’ve been told. Not even when I’m in heat.” The teen sighed a bit. “Mishima…you didn’t  _ want _ to go off your suppressants, did you?”

Mishima laid his chin on his knees, staring forward, away from Akira, as he answered an ashamed “no.”

The two omegas sat together, Akira leaning in slightly and resting his cheek against Mishima’s shoulder, mindful of any change or negative reaction. Mishima just leaned back into him.

“He said...he promised the rest of the guys on the team…” Thin fingers dug into the flesh of his arms, his body trembling once again.

Unable to stand it anymore, Akira pulled the shaking omega closer and wrapped his arms around him, exuding the one tool omegas had amongst themselves, the soothing scent. He’d been flippant about Mishima, before, not entirely trusting...and not entirely happy with the weaker omega behaviours when he, Akira, had been forced to be tougher, stronger, angrier...less trusting. 

He could pass a normal day in this little hole in the country and tell himself that his past, the conviction, the incarceration, the shunning...that none of it had touched him. That he was still himself. But at night, laying in the dusty attic of a coffee shop miles and miles away from his life, he knew the truth.

Gritting his teeth against the unbidden sensation of strong phantom hands, of that voice, slurred, snarling, commanding...

“I’ve got you,” Akira murmured, holding the shaking boy close. “Never again, Mishima. I promise.”

The heat was getting worse. He could feel it now, coming off of the other omega in waves. Stress, anxiety, emotion, fear...it was all enough to throw any cycle out the window in excess. Going to school, knowing what waited- _ accepting _ what waited—but he hadn’t. He’d hid, up here where the others were forbidden, where the open air carried the scent away.

Where he had no escape route.

“I can’t go home…they know where I live,” Mishima whispered, voice thick, and high. “I can’t...I can’t stand this…”

Grim determination set Akira’s course for them.

“I know where we can go.”

 

*~*~*~*

Getting a shivering heat-drunk omega as gorgeous as Mishima through the back streets of Shibuya was hell, Akira would be the first to admit it, but even the most assuming alpha took notice when he snarled. He didn’t smell right, he knew that, and they were lucky it was day time still. He didn’t think the rowdier people of the evening would be as easily cowed. It was without much incident that he was leading Mishima through the door of Untouchable, sparing a glance at the usual enthusiast drooling over the merch.

“Ah, I...yes, well,” the heavier set man muttered, heading for the exit. He stopped in front of the teens long enough to bow his head. And then he was out the door.

Akira slid the bolt home behind him and turned.

Iwai stood behind the counter, jaw firm, eyeing the both of them. Mishima’s shaking worsened under the inspection, tears forming in his eyes and he stared helplessly up at the older man.

“Why…?” He whimpered softly, shooting the most painful look of betrayal at Akira. “Not...not you too…”

“Shhhh,” Akira stepped forward, wrapping his arms around a struggling Mishima, cooing and shushing softly as he pet his hair. “Mishima, Mishima take a breath. Smell.”

The frightened omega wanted to do no such thing. He knew what alpha looked like-he didn’t  _ need _ the hypnotic roofie that was alpha scent to confirm anything for him. He fought with weakened limbs and aching resolve against the other’s hold, but his protest died almost immediately and he was forced to breathe in or pass out.

It smelled…

It... _ didn’t _ smell…

Akira let go slowly as the other teen’s shaking subsided, and his body relaxed. He took a step back and reached out to tug down the hood of the jacket he’d wrapped Mishima up in for their journey. 

“Mune, this is Mishima. He needs a place to stay.”

The surly expression on the older man, the older  _ alpha _ man’s face softened, and he nodded his head. “I think we can skip the pleasantries for now, kid. C’mon, this way.”

The punkish man turned and motioned for them to follow as he disappeared into a back room. Mishima stood still, hesitating, nerves returning like the roll of ocean tides.

“He smells like…”

“Like me.” Akira finished, stepping up beside the other and smiling gently. “Or, well, more like  _ I  _ smell like  _ him. _ Yeah.” The dark haired boy looked in the direction the older man had gone then back at Mishima. “This is a safe place, Mishima—”

“Yuuki.” When Akira only blinked, Mishima blushed a bit. “M-my name. Yuuki.”

“Yuuki.” Akira liked the way it made the other boy smile a little. “It’s going to be okay.”

“But he’s an  _ alpha _ .” Mishima gasped, shuddering around the word as the want inside of him burned brighter. “He’s just...they all…”

Akira held out his hands between them. “Yuuki, I swear to you, on my honor as a Phantom Thief. He isn’t like the team. He isn’t like—”

The tears were back in Mishima’s eyes as he stared into Akira’s and both knew the name that loomed between them.

“What if...what if I can’t control it?” Mishima asked in a small voice, slowly reaching out and resting his hands in the other teen’s. “What if I beg for it...like the...like the bit—”

“I will help you through it.”

They both knew what that meant. That it could be done, but it would be hell on both of them. Sexual contact with another omega would trigger Akira’s own heat, suppressants be damned.

“But then you’ll—”

“And we’ll be in it together.” Akira whispered, holding Yuuki’s hands firmly.

Mishima stared at the floor for a long time, his hands balling up ito fists in Akira’s grip. Slowly he lifted his head again, met the other teen’s grey eyes, and nodded.

“Okay.”

Akira led the other teen around the back of the counter and through the doorway. There was a back room, piled high with boxes of kits and gear, and a work table scattered in tools, oils, and pieces. Iwai stood off to the side of the room, next to a pegboard rack of kevlar tactical vests mounted to the wall. When the two came in, he reached out and slid an unnoticeable latch and the whole thing swung open. Behind it was an ad-hoc doorway, something clearly achieved with a sledgehammer and some free time, leading into another room. The alpha lead the way through, flicking a light on once he made it.

Mishima looked warily at Akira, but followed anyway once the dark haired teen had stepped through. They came out into a hallway that ran alongside some stairs. It looked...almost like the hallway in a big house, but as they walked across they passed by the places where doorways to the rest of the home would be he noticed it was all bricked up. They went up the stairs until they reached a single door. Iwai opened this as well and stepped inside, holding it open for the other two. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting on the other side, really. Some kind of awful sex dungeon? Or an omega brothel fronting as an airsoft shop? But it was nothing he could have thought of. It was a room, a simple, large room, with a window cracked open to let cool air flow in. There was nice wooden floorboards underfoot, and a soft looking round rug off to one side. Like a bedroom, from one of those American comics, there was a large bed that took up a healthy chunk of the space, its headboard pressed against the wall opposite them. The window sat to the left, perched over a full set of low dresser drawers. A large desk sat against the right wall, with a small functional lamp, a few textbooks and notebooks, and some pens scattered over it. A tall cabinet stood alongside it, and a mini fridge was its stalwart mate.

Akira took Mishima in and set him on the bed, then turned to look at their host.

“So listen kid, I get the feeling you ain’t used to a damn dirty adult bein’ nice to ya-let alone an alpha,” Iwai looked directly at Mishima, but was careful to avoid complete eye contact, knowing the poor omega wouldn’t be able to stand too much scrutiny in the current state he was in. “Believe me or don’t, but I ain’t layin’ a finger on ya. This place is safe, there’s only two ways in or out and the Brat here knows ‘em. S’fully stocked for an omega’s heat, enough to last ya and keep ya goin’ through the worst and the best of it. You got a phone?”

Mishima held back the squeak that bubbled up from him at the sudden question, nodding and reaching for his pocket.

“Good, number to the omega Outreach an’ the local clinic are right here,” the gun merchant rapped a knuckle against a laminated piece of printed paper next to the doorway. “You need help, you call em. My direct phone line is there too.” Iwai’s gaze swung to Akira, who was busily pulling blanket after blanket from the dresser by the window. “You got the Brat here to give you the good tour. Any questions?”

Mishima was squirming where he sat, aware of the slick ruining his uniform pants as it seeped, and the sweat trickling down his...everywhere. It was getting harder to focus on anything other than the fact that there was an alpha in the room. “I...haa...uhm...How...how long do I have to stay?”

Iwai’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes darted to shoot Akira a scowl before resting on Mishima again. “However long ya need, kid. I ain’t runnin’ a prison or anythin’.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “With as bad as you’re lookin’ though, I’d at least give it the night. S’gettin’ dark already and Shibuya ain’t the kinda place you wanna be this time of the month.”

The older man wasn’t entirely sure how much had actually gotten through to the newcomer-his eyes were going glassy, and they weren’t looking anywhere but at him. alpha fixation. Definitely time to go. He glanced at Akira, who gave a slight nod in agreement, then turned to leave.

“Why?”

Iwai stopped, but didn’t look back, unsure if he could stand to  _ see  _ the confusion, and struggle, and pain that he already  _ heard  _ in the teen’s voice.

“Because not all alphas are bastards, kid. But a fuckin’ lot of ‘em are.”

And he left, closing the door behind him.

Mishima stared at the door for a moment longer before a throbbing wave of need and heat slammed into him hard enough to steal his breath. He fell back into the comforter with a high whine, hands moving blindly to tear away at his clothes. Buttons scattered like shrapnel as he arched and twisted, gasping for air as his pale skin met the room temperature. He kicked off his shoes angrily, and ripped open the fly of his soaked uniform pants like they’d personally offended him (they  _ had _ ).

His fingers instantly dove into his boxers, wrapping around his dainty cock and stroking like his life depended on it. He twisted onto his side and reached back with his other hand to bury two fingers into his slick channel without a second thought, whimpering in relief one second only to whine miserably in dissatisfaction when it wasn’t enough the next.

Movement, and a voice, a  _ smell _ , pulled the twitching omega’s attention over to the other occupant of the room. Akira came to kneel next to the bed, setting a tray between them. The items on it were meaningless to the heat-crazed teen, save for one. A dildo, shiny and bright, long, thick, with a solid mouth-wateringly large knot at the base, Mishima’s burning brain didn’t even care that it was a ridiculous mix of black, red, and white pigment. The omega clawed out, seeking the pacifier blindly, letting out a low growl when a hand caught his own and held it.

“Easy now,” Akira cooed. “It’s all yours, Yuuki, I promise.”

And the raven haired teen let him go. Mishima took a shuddering breath, pulling the toy close to nose and nuzzle his face against for a moment before licking the tip with wide swaths of his tongue. His heated gaze slid over to meet Akira’s, and the less-than-he-would-admit-unaffected teen couldn’t hide the hungry look in his eye before lowering them with a blush. 

Another wave of blistering scorch stole away any last hint of cognizance Mishima might have had, and the omega was kissing the toy goodbye before bringing it down to press insistently at his slickened hole. He whined, high,  _ needy _ , as he pressed it in, shuddering as it slid home to fill him like he wanted, like his instincts told him it should. His eyes slid closed, long lashes resting against flushed cheeks, as he soaked in the sensation. Something he’d never had a chance to do before. And that thought triggered his hand to start moving, rough, wild,  _ violent _ motions slamming the thick length of the dildo into himself, bringing cry after moan after howl from his lips as present and past rammed together hard enough to make his head spin and his body seize.

He could feel the huge, strong hands clawing at his hips, the guttural groans of rutting and disgust too much in the silent room, his body turning at the insistence of ghosts to land him on his knees, chest against the bedspread, ass in the air, face turned  to the side only because an unconscious fuck couldn’t  _ scream and beg for his Olympic knot... _

“Yuuki.”

Mishima froze, hands dropping away to fall uselessly to the bed, and slowly opened his eyes to meet the steel gray of his friend’s. Tears obscured his vision, and only now could Mishima feel the tracks wetting his cheeks. When had he even started?

“A...Akira...he…”

“He isn’t here.” The solidity in the other’s voice, the sureness, the  _ fact _ , eased the tension in Mishima’s body, the adult’s phantom weight letting up from his back. “He’s never going to touch you again. No one will, without your permission.”

The omega made a sound of distress, hiding his face in the blanket as a sob broke through any kind of response he could have made. That was nice, and good, and maybe in another life he’d  _ believe it, _ but he was an omega, and a weak one at that.

“I don’t...know...what to do…” He admitted wretchedly, wishing he could be more like Akira.

A gentle hand ran through his hair, grazing his scalp just enough to send flutters through his churning stomach. The same scent from the rooftop, the one that soothed him so effortlessly, wrapped around him, and he sank down into the bed heedless of the toy sticking out of himself. Dully his mind registered the feeling of it sliding out completely, but he was unable to fathom if it did so unaided.

“Please,” he heard himself whisper, voice small, afraid, weak, knowing what he was asking without really knowing. “Please...help.”

And the answer came without hesitation. 

“Okay.”

Hands slid over pale, glistening skin, along Mishima’s back, sending shivers through his spine, ghosting over his ass before coming to rest on his thighs. The omega lifted his ass to the touch, presenting himself to the other’s mercy, and received a rumble of approval that made his heart soar. Good, he wanted to be good. He could be good.   
  
The response didn’t go unnoticed, and Akira shook his head a bit at the world that had tried to destroy something as pretty as Mishima: an omega eager and happy to please for the low cost of positive reinforcement. It was almost,  _ almost _ lucky that the fragile teen had experience only with selfish, blind alphas. Anyone with more than a knot for a brain would have had Mishima quickly wrapped around their fingers for life with only a little praise. The impulse was strong in Akira, even, omega status be damned.

He pressed his hands, trying to coax the other to turn, to lay back, but he was met with hesitant resistance. 

“So well,” Akira murmured. “Doing so well. Don’t worry, Yuuki.”

A soft whimper was all the response he got, until he ran his hand back up to Mishima’s ass, and let his fingers dance in the slick that poured from the younger omega. The other finally relented and shifted to lay on his back, covering his face with his arms while Akira moved to sit between his opened legs. His aching cock lay neglected against his stomach, red, angry, drenched in precum that even now weeped pearl after pearl. Akira cooed softly as he ran his hands up and down Mishima’s sensitive inner thighs, which immediately started to shake.

“Not just here to fuck you.”

Akira licked his lips and lowered his head, running his tongue over the tip of Mishima’s cock to gather the fluid spilling. The omega beneath him cried out, hips rolling, hands flying away from his face to grip the bed, leaving the other’s wide eyes open to fully view the sight of his own length disappearing into the other omega’s mouth completely. Coming unglued, Mishima arched, hard, thrusting up into the wet heat of Akira’s mouth while his body gave a hard twitch as he came from that one simple act alone. The next moment he sank back onto the bed, chest heaving. Akira sat up, swallowing his mouthful with a content little smile.

“You...you...I’ve…” Mishima tried to put words to the tumult roaring inside of himself.

“I figured you hadn’t,” Akira replied breezily, knowing just the type of encounters Mishima probably had. “It isn’t all about making their cock warm you know. It’s  _ your _ heat. They should be begging to be lucky enough to feel you.”

Mishima blinked slowly up at the other teen, blank incomprehension covering his face. “That makes no sense.”

“There will be time, later.” Because Akira got the feeling there would  _ never _ be enough time to completely undo what had been done, but he’d do all he could anyway. “For now…”

Akira’s fingers slid up, three of them burrowing slowly but surely into the wet core of the quivering omega. Having already forced the toy, Akira knew they’d go easily, but it was the look of pure, startled wonderment on Yuuki’s face as he pressed against his prostate that made Akira beam in triumph— while mentally shaking his head sadly once again. The omega’s spent cock was already reviving, and as Akira thrust and rubbed his fingers against that sweet spot the other writhed and whimpered in pleasure he’d never felt before, drowning in the sensation. 

But it wasn’t enough, there was a deep ache, a need for something more, something  _ specific _ . And just as Mishima thought this, Akira’s fingers left him feeling hollow. It lasted only a second, though, before the other omega was easing the toy back inside to fill him. Mishima cooed as he rolled his hips, taking it in that much deeper, but Akira was determined not to let the heat make Yuuki hurt himself. The phantom thief began rocking the dildo back and forth, his pace somewhere beyond gentle but well below grueling like Mishima had been going before. 

Kid gloves were nice, but not for the first tie of a heat. The omega whimpered and whined as he felt the fake cock move, spreading him open, spearing him in place, but not punishing him. It didn’t make sense, but his head wasn’t anywhere close to being able to suss out his own name let alone the mysteries of Akira Kurusu. And it was doing sufficiently well, his body tightening and twitching as he gushed and shuddered for the imaginary alpha. He tried not to close his eyes, but that, too, became inevitable. This time, though, with the pace so augmented, it was harder for  _ him _ to materialize behind his eyes. Yuuki could feel the cock inside of him shift, searching for a moment, before colors and light danced over his field of vision and he cried out, electric sex zipping through the conduit of his nervous system. That spot, that  _ spot _ ...it was enough to bring tears to his eyes as Akira targeted it, thrusting the toy against it over and over. 

Mishima felt like he was lashed to the mast of a ship on the raging sea, each wave taking the boat higher and higher up before inevitably crashing back down. It couldn’t last, the ship was going to smash to pieces, come flying apart in ecstacy and wreckage, leaving him to drown, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It felt too good, all of that energy and pleasure buzzing in his brain like angry hornets. A whip-crack of pressure, a sharp instant of pain, and Mishima was coming undone, stuffed full of an alpha’s knot and flailing his way through the strongest orgasm of his life. His eyes flew open, and as he tried to breathe while the rest of his body refused to respond, all he saw was Akira over him, looking so relieved and angelic and...sad.

The smaller omega passed out completely, head lolling back as his cock continued to spurt, painting his own stomach again. Akira sighed softly, trying hard not to breathe in the miasma of pheromones that he’d put himself in.

And knowing it was far too late.

The dark haired boy tugged slightly at the dildo, making sure the knot was securely in place where it belonged, before lifting himself up and leaning over to place a gentle kiss to Mishima’s sweaty brow. The poor kid had looked so scared and resigned all at once. Akira shook his head to himself and got up, keeping and eye and ear on the unconscious omega as he moved around, cleaning all he could, and bundling up all that would need outside assistance. He settled himself back on the bed, sitting up and leaning his back against the headboard, running fingers absentmindedly through Mishima’s hair as he held his phone to his ear with his other hand.

“How’s the kid?” Iwai’s gruff uncaring voice on the other end didn’t fool Akira for a moment, he knew what an omega in distress did to the man. The teen had known plenty of alphas who got aggressive or possessive of unbonded omegas, but only one who got so protective he built a safe room. 

“It’s bad,” Akira murmured, looking down into the sleeping face of the poster child for every omega after school special he’d ever seen.

“Didja get him down, at least?”

Akira sighed. “Yeah.” He bit his lip. “It was like he’d never had anyone touch him before, Mune.”

He could hear the displeased growl rumbling under the gunsmith’s breath. “Probably cuz no one’s ever bothered  _ touchin’ _ when  _ takin’s _ easier.”

The line went quiet for a moment between them, both caught up in their own fury at the world around them.

“I had to help him.”

Iwai scoffed softly. “Think I didn’ see that comin’?”

“It was the only way—”

“Brat,” and Akira stilled, explanation falling off his tongue. “Any call you make, I’ll back. I trust you to know yourself.”

The teen smiled, feeling something warm welling up inside. “Thank you, Mune.”

 

*~*~*~*

Mishima snapped awake with a hiss, staring up at the ceiling directly ahead of him and waiting for the absolute filth and loathing to smother him like it always did. He was a disgusting wretch, after all. But the longer he lay there, the more confused he became, as the expected emotions and despair never came.

He felt…

He felt clean.

He sat bolt upright, looking around wildly to find the room seemingly empty. Then he looked down at himself. The comforter he vaguely remembered was gone, and he was lying in the bed under smooth soft sheets that somehow didn’t fry him with his own body heat— as most fabrics usually did. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, lifting the sheet to find that yes, he was still naked, and no, his erection hadn’t gone down a damn bit, but someone had wiped him down completely and left him to sleep...clean.

It tipped his world sideways, and how sad was that?

Movement had him turning his head, looking over to see Akira stepping out of what looked like a bathroom, if the rush of steam that left with him was any indication, rubbing a towel through his fluffy soft curls. He was dressed down, now, in casual clothes. Jeans, and a thin black hoodie shirt pulled over, his trademark glasses gone for the moment, and Mishima wondered whether they were necessary at all. The raven-haired boy smiled when he saw him sitting up in bed, and tossed the towel behind himself back into the bathroom.

“How are you feeling?”

Mishima gave a weak laugh as he looked down, his hands falling into his lap. “Okay.”

“Yuuki.”

The blue-haired teen glanced up and twitched back when Akira was  _ right there _ at the edge of the bed, having moved so silently...so dangerously silently. Well. Phantom Thief and all, he supposed.

The sharp look in the other’s eyes did little to take the edge off, and Mishima found himself unable to meet that gaze, scuttling back until his spine met the headboard, and pulling his knees up to his chest, hugging them and the sheet with them. “...Yeah?”

He heard Akira sigh, and glanced up quickly when he heard him move away. Akira had his back to him, digging in the pantry and coming out again with an armful of things.

“I’m fine, honest. It’s not like this is my first heat or anything,” Mishima tried to sound relaxed, even if he felt his stomach clenching fist-tight with every word.

The fluffy teen grabbed a few water bottles from the fridge and returned, sitting on the edge of the bed and laying out his bounty between them. A variety of protein and power bars in all flavors and colors, packs of the omega Nutrient gels that he knew for a fact cost a ton, and simple chocolate bars with and without nuts, a veritable heavenly spread. Mishima’s hand slowly stuck out, reaching for a chocolate bar, which Akira handed him— after he’d stacked a protein bar on top of it. If that was the condition, he’d manage fine. He slowly unwrapped the candy first, watching Akira for any sign of rebuke, and nibbled at it, sighing happily as it melted over his tongue and eased the tension in his muscles just that tiny bit.

He may have made an indecent noise, but it wasn’t the first he’d given the other teen, so he couldn’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed.

Akira picked up another of the bars and unwrapped it for himself, biting down and chewing thoughtfully, and Mishima realized that the silence between them was...pleasant. Comfortable. Not the most awkward thing in the entire world, and for once he didn’t feel the impulse to fill the space between them with something— anything— to be relevant and interesting. They stayed like that through his whole candy bar, content to just sit and eat, the air around them perhaps a bit warm, but not swarming with the frenetic urgency of Heat for the moment.

It wasn’t until Mishima had bitten into his protein bar that he thought to ask.

“So...what is this place?”

Akira tilted his head to the side for a moment, curls falling over steel eyes. “It’s a safe place for omegas to go.”

“I get that, but...why? Where? How? Give me something here,” Mishima stopped chewing to lean in, just a bit, excitement tingling over his spine. “Are we like...breaking and entering right now?”

“...technically?” Akira chuckled softly at the flash of pleased surprise in Mishima’s eyes. “The people who own this property were just gonna burn it down. So Mune...made a deal with them, and turned it into a nest.”

Mishima raised an eyebrow. “They just let him brick over everything like that?”

“It was the safest way to secure an exit that could be controlled.” The raven-haired boy shook his head and leaned back, cheeks tinting a slight pink. “And...I really liked the view up here.”

Mishima’s eyes widened. “So he built this place for you?”

“His son is an omega. In his old line of work, Mune saw just how bad it got for our kind.” Akira rubbed the back of his head. “He didn’t want his son to experience any of that, ever. So...he kinda...he kinda started building this place on his own.”

The younger boy looked around the room again, taking in the more homey touches, the gentle soothing blues that seemed to fill the room, from blankets to wall paint to the rug, mixed with earthy browns. “...Yeah, no. No alpha made this place.” Mishima met Akira’s eyes. “They don’t get blue.”

Akira laughed. “No, that would be my influence. You shoulda seen this place when it was just him, though. Half was army surplus, because Mune’s nothing if not pragmatic, and the rest was so…” The omega narrowed his eyes, searching for the word. “Plush. Like he wanted the omega inside to feel like the most precious thing in the world.”

Mishima couldn’t hold back the snort of derision, and his cheeks flamed as his eyes shot to the sheets between them, his head bowed in apology. “I’m sorry, that was rude—”

“To be honest, Mune probably would have responded the same way,” Akira waved his hand dismissively, waiting until the other boy lifted his head again before continuing. “I don’t think he quite understood what he’d done, either. So I helped him with the place as part time work.”

“When did you start sleeping with him?” The teen groaned immediately, realizing just how badly he was having this conversation.  _ Sure, insult the alpha, then ask for the seedy details, real smart Mishima. _ When the other boy didn’t immediately respond, or lash out, Mishima looked up at him. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Yuuki, I sucked your dick, pretty sure we’re there,” Akira laughed, and Mishima marveled at just how bright the other boy was. Intelligence aside-and  _ of course _ Akira was a star pupil nonetheless-he just had the power, the charisma, to light up a room, and make Mishima laugh despite everything. 

 

#~#~#~#

So Akira told him what he could. How he’d accidentally encountered Iwai during a sudden heat, and the alpha had shown him the beginnings of the nest they now inhabited. Originally it had been in the living area of the place, which became too big and open for any kind of safe feeling. He’d spent the majority of the encounter waiting for Iwai to jump him and take what alphas always wanted to take, but Iwai had surprised him with his restraint. More like downright refusal, which was a hell of a turn around to what he’d experienced...

“Uhm...Akira?” Mishima hesitated, not wanting to interrupt the story, but Akira had fallen into a thoughtful silence anyway.

Steel eyes lifted and met his own, and the dark haired teen tilted his head in question.

“You...you made it sound like…” How did you ask something like that?

How did someone talk so cavalierly about it?

“You know I got in trouble with the law,” Akira said. 

Mishima could only wince. Of course he knew, he’d been the one to dig that out of the teen’s sealed records and feed the information to...he’d been the one to turn the entire school against Akira from damn-near day one.

“The truth is…” Akira turned away, looking out the window into the darkened night sky, eyes somehow farther away than even that. “I went into heat as they were shoving me against the car. It was a trumped up charge, but what was an omega going to say? They knew they weren’t going to keep me. They weren’t even going to bother putting me in a cell, just send my sorry ass home in disgrace and shame.”

Akira’s eyes shifted, away from the past, back to the here and now, unable to stand being back there again. “But the bastard noticed. I’ll never forget the look on...his...face…”

The dark haired teen frowned as he realized he  _ had _ . Not the look, it was a look he knew all too well anyway. But the  _ face _ ...that was...his head started to spin and he had to shake it to free his thoughts.

“He demanded they throw me in the biggest, most crowded cell they had. That it would teach me a lesson.” The teen swallowed thickly. “He didn’t mean for hitting him.”

_ It’ll teach him exactly where his place is. _

“A...Akira…”

“So I spent the night locked in a cell with a bunch of violent, drunk alphas and betas...in heat. I lost track of how many there were, or how many touched me. It’s just noise, and pain now.” Well, mostly. He’d still have those nights where he’d swear he was on his way down to the Velvet Room only to wake up in a different cell altogether…

Mishima tried to find words, anything, something to reach out to the other omega who suddenly felt light years away, and untouchable, like the coldest ice, that would burn his hand away immediately.

“K-Kamoshida was my...my first.”

It was the only olive branch he had. Mutual suffering, shared loss, of something, or anything, of everything.

Now that he’d said it outloud, it was like the cork was popped and it all spilled out of him. “He’d already ruined the track team, and Sakamoto was out of the picture. He was the only one who ever said anything. The rest of us...we were shut up quickly.”

The bile welled up in the back of his throat, and he had to take a drink. “He told me to ditch the suppressants. That I was his, that my body was his to do what he wanted with. He told me he’d let the others catch a break for a bit if I did it, but that they’d catch hell if I didn’t. That he’d tell the whole school I was some kind of whore omega who let alphas do anything they wanted. That he’d find me, and just f-fuck me dry if I couldn’t get w-wet for him like a good omega was supposed to.” He hung his head. “So I did. I wish I could say that I did it for the others, but it was a lie anyway.”

Akira held out his hands and Mishima found himself sinking into them, hiding his face and letting the sobs come now as he was enveloped in the soothing scent of another omega-who understood.

“Yuuki...” Akira whispered, holding the fragile boy in his arms tightly. 

“It was my first time…” Mishima whimpered. “He’s the only one who’s ever…”

“Not anymore,” Akira reminded him gently, rubbing the other teen’s back.

“Not sure that counts,” the smaller teen muttered with a weak laugh.

Akira snorted. “I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

He’d been trying for a joke.

“Ahh…”

“Yuuki I was just—”

“Okay.”

And now his voice was gone.

“What?”

“Uhm.” Mishima looked down, unable to meet Akira’s eyes. “Uhm. I said...okay.”

Akira took hold of Mishima’s shoulders and eased the other boy back, looking him in the eye. “Yuuki, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to?”

“You just admitted some...heavy...stuff. It’s perfectly natural to want to wipe it clean, but...but this isn’t the way.”

“So how did you cope, then?”

Akira’s mouth shut with a snap, a scowl blooming over his pretty face.

“Was it that guy? The owner guy downstairs?”

The dark haired teen sighed. “His name’s Munehisa Iwai...”

 

#~#~#~#

Akira sat back against the headboard again, running his fingers through Mishima’s hair as the omega dozed, head in the phantom thief’s lap. It was peaceful, but Akira could feel the heat returning to the other teen’s face, the scent of pheromones picking up. It wouldn’t be long, and he suspected Mishima was going to be more insistent this time around, now that he knew he was somewhere safe with someone who could give him almost what he wanted. 

The teen looked down into the gentle face below and sighed softly. He’d always been annoyed by Mishima’s overtly omega nature, but behind that he could, objectively, see it for the jealousy that it was. And  _ that  _ he could put aside now. What remained was an overwhelming need to protect the other from any further harm— something else that had been present from day one. The kid had “puppet” written all over him. Even in the midst of all the Kamoshida crap, when it felt like there was no one to trust, he’d known that whatever Mishima did was against his own wishes.  _ And there came that headstrong need of his again... _

Yuuki, who looked so much younger and more vulnerable than Akira, presented a chance for instincts the raven teen had thought useless and doomed to withering away. Sure, he led his group, made sure that everything went as smooth as it could, that everyone was safe and taken care of, inside and out of the Metaverse. They were a very real form of pack for him. But within the pack there were dynamics that he didn’t dare encroach upon. It wasn’t that he didn’t already take things into account— Ryuji’s injury, Ann’s emotional strain, or Yusuke’s sheltered worldview— he did, but he knew when to say something and when to wait and let another’s voice speak for him. He couldn’t just casually worry about Ann like Ryuji, or outright  _ mother hen  _ Ryuji like Ann could...

A burn started in his chest at that particular line of thought, and Akira turned his mind away from it. The sting lessened but the heat remained, and that gave him pause. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, then down at Yuuki, internally assessing the severity and time left until detonation. Could he ride it out until Yuuki’s heat was over, at least?

No. Not if Yuuki was looking for him to be more involved. He was already doomed, the prolonged contact with the other’s heat pheromones in the air had done their damage. He was going down, soon. And that probably wouldn’t go so well considering he hadn’t had a solo heat since that first encounter with Iwai. Hell, they had a healthy enough sex life, he wasn’t sure any kind of toy would be nearly enough to his rational body, let alone one seeking to be bred. 

He bit his lip in thought, just as a soft, deliberately intricate knock came from the door. Akira lifted his head, and smiled warmly. He picked up his phone and typed out a quick message, his smile growing fonder at the sound of a receiving chime from the other side of the door.

{You know you could have just called.}

“Yeah, I know,” Iwai murmured, voice pitched low as usual, but strong enough to sound through the door anyway. Mishima didn’t even budge in his sleep. “But it wasn’t just about hearin’ ya...”

{You were worried}

“Are we really having this conversation like this?”

Akira chuckled softly and stroked Mishima’s soft hair again while he texted.

{Admit it and we’ll talk.}

Iwai gave a long suffering sigh, but the teen knew it was more in response to his actions, rather than his words. “Yeah, Brat, I’m worried. You been here cooped up with him long enough now, your body’s gonna follow his.”

“Yeah,” Akira admitted. “I can already feel it starting.”

Iwai paused, and Akira could just make out a gentle thump, like a forehead hitting the door gently. “I can’t go in there, and you can’t come out. Hate seeing you suffer, s’all.”

“I know,” Akira looked down, unable to tamp down the warmth rising in his cheeks. A mixture of his heat and...how he felt about Iwai. 

They’d never put a name on it, never really needed to. They were who they were, they just happened to be better together than apart. Akira suspected it was love, he didn’t know what else to call the enormous upwelling of pure emotion that Iwai tapped in him. But he wasn’t going to ruin the blissful harmony they had by just throwing that out there between them like the sappiest hand grenade ever. Besides, he suspected that Iwai felt the same.

“Just...just let me know when it hits, Brat.”

“I will. You heading home for the night?”

“Nah,” Akira could hear the alpha’s Gore Tex jacket shift as he rolled his shoulders. “Got some orders to fill and restockin’ and filin’ and shit to do. Probably be here all night.”

Akira gave a small fondly exasperated huff. “Convenient.”

But he’d be lying if he didn’t feel better knowing Iwai was only just downstairs.

There was a moment that passed between them, silence lengthening the void. 

“I forgot how awkward it is walking away from this,” Iwai muttered ruefully. “What do I say, have a good Heat? Don’t dehydrate yourself or him? Try not to break anything?”

The omega snorted, laughter spilling like the most expensive of wines to sate Iwai’s unspoken thirst for emotional assurance. “I’ll take it. I’ll message you later, Mune. Good night.”

“Yeah…” Iwai sighed softly, tapping the door lightly with his finger. “Good night, Brat.”

As Iwai’s footsteps and the swishing of his coat faded down the stairs, Mishima lay still in Akira’s hold and thought. He’d been awake since just before Iwai had knocked, his body actively seeking out an alpha presence and therefore recognizing it even through the door. He’d expected...he honestly didn’t think he could hope to begin expecting anything with these two. They were so different from anything he’d known. Akira was a strong omega who easily passed for an alpha without anyone batting an eyelash, but was gentle enough to pet him in his sleep. And Iwai...the man, the  _ alpha _ , had shown so much control and restraint it was barely believable. Mishima knew just how drenched the room had to be in his scent. The alpha on the other side of the door had to have smelled it, even stronger now than when he’d first been brought in, and still he didn’t make any kind of move, or trying to leverage any kind of deal. 

And now Akira was going into heat because of him, and couldn’t even be with his alpha. Mishima felt a wave of searing need wash slam through him, and couldn’t help but squirm at how uncomfortable he felt just then.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Akira’s hands pulled away, and Mishima let out a small breathy little whine at the loss of contact. “C’mon, Yuuki, up you get.”

The blue haired teen grumbled a bit as he sat up, squirming again as his weight shifted to highlight the slick pooling at his entrance and the ever growing need for something to fill him. He tried to set it aside for a moment, rolling his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension, but all it took was one touch of Akira’s hands there to melt him, the anxiety sliding away into nothingness as another flash of heat came. It was really taking hold now, his cock throbbed between his thighs, his hole clenched and unclenched in search of anything and everything. He turned his head back, brown eyes lidded by all consuming lust, his pupils blown at the simple touch of another he deemed safe.

He nuzzled against the hand on his shoulder, rubbing his scent onto the other in search of an exchange. Akira was gracious enough to lift his hand, exposing the soft thin skin of his wrist, for Yuuki to rub against.

“Sorry, Yuuki,” Akira murmured soothingly, a hint of sadness flitting through his words. “I get it, but I don’t have it.”

“It’s enough,” Yuuki mumbled bad, tongue feeling leaden and dense. He pressed his naked body forward, against Akira’s clothed one, and brought both down so that he was pinning the other teen to the bed. He met grey eyes, calm and content, and smiled a little drunkenly before leaning in closer and daintily placing a chaste kiss on Akira’s lips.

Of course the next one was filthy, as Mishima practically attacked his mouth with inexperienced exuberance. Akira couldn’t fault him for enthusiasm, at least, but the natural leader in him took over, calming the wilder nature of their kisses into something just as fiery but far more satisfying. He captured Mishima’s mouth with his own and bit at the other teen’s lower lip to gain entrance, met to tussle and tangle his tongue with Mishima’s own.

The body over him rutted against him, dripping cock leaving trails over Akira’s pants that the thief knew he’d have to explain to Ms. Kawakami at some point. He lifted a knee, pressing it up and giving Mishima something to rock into, feeling the boy’s shudders and swallowing his needy little moans.  He pulled back for a second, and Yuuki just stared down at him, lips bruised, saliva slipping from the corner of his mouth a bit as he panted for breath he’d forgotten he needed.

God damn was this what alphas saw?

Sign him the fuck up.

Akira tangled his hands in Yuuki’s short hair and brought him back in for another kiss, but the teen above whined and turned his head. Just as Akira was about to let go, though, Mishima found his voice.

“Please?” That single word dripped with lust. “You can m-mark me...no one will know. Or care.”

It was the raw belief he saw well up in those brown eyes over him at that last statement that caused Akira to surge up a bit and sink his teeth down into the junction of neck and shoulder. Mishima writhed, voice reedy and broken as his body blazed to life in white hot excitement. The omega beneath him didn’t leave it just there though, now on a personal mission to leave marks all along the column of Yuuki’s throat so he could remember the next time he was in front of a mirror.

“ _ I _ care,” Akira growled around his pale skin, pulling back only once he was satisfied that the marks would stay.

Then Akira rolled them, taking Mishima over and pressing down against him while keeping his knee situated between the omega’s thighs where it could still be used, and rocking it against him. Akira tried to find some semblance of control, Yuuki needed nice things,  _ good _ things, but it was hard with the venom of lust racing through him. He caught the slim hands that reached up towards him, but allowed them on their way a moment later. They snaked up along his arms and shoulders to sink firmly in his soft, luxurious curls, and all Akira could do for a moment was look down into the most precious pair of bedroom eyes he’d ever seen.

Mishima smiled beatifically up at him, all loose muscles and lazy movements as he still shivered against the stimulus Akira’s knee provided. 

“Yuuki,” Akira meant to speak, but it came out far more recognizable as a moan of pure want. The blue haired angel below spread his legs invitingly, slick shining over the sheets. “Please?”

Akira  _ felt _ the need physically roll through him, from the top of his head down to his toes. And so little of his mind cared now about anything else but giving the omega just what he needed, and how it should be.  He made sure he had those eyes on him as he moved, scooting back down until he rested with his shoulders trapped between Mishima’s thighs, before lowering his head. Perhaps suspecting a taste of the previous oral gratification, Yuuki’s eyes slid shut, only to snap open again as he let out a wild cry of Akira’s name as he felt his slickened hole invaded by a hot, wide tongue. His thighs instantly locked around Akira, squeezing him tightly, but the teen didn’t seem to mind as he set about devouring Mishima from the inside out with long licks and deep searching thrusts of his tongue. Yuuki’s hands gripped the hair they’d tangled themselves in and held on for dear life, squealing and squirming as he called out Akira’s name. It didn’t take much for his overstimulated body to burst, cum splashing over his stomach as he pulled Akira’s hair and cried out. His body went limp, his thighs parting to lay on either side of the thief. Mishima wheezed as he tried to remember how to breathe, every inch of him tingling. 

He thought looking down at the other would be safe, but he was caught once more by that seductive steel gaze as Akira lifted his head and licked his slick-drenched lips slowly, a seductive and positively knee-weakeningly wild smirk on his face. Mishima recognized those wild eyes as those of the great leader of the phantom thieves. The thought that his body could bring about such transformation in the other had him moaning for more.

Mishima carefully released Akira’s hair and reached out towards the other teen again. “Please, Akira...inside?”

Because he’d seen the other’s cock, in the showers at school. Mishima was about as average could be, in every way, while Akira was...exceptional. So, of course, the cocksure omega was gifted in that department as well. Nothing terrifying, certainly not as looming as some of the alphas he’d seen, but still more than capable of scratching that itch deep inside of him.    
  
Akira’s smirk kicked up just that slight bit higher, unable to pass up an opportunity to tease so perfectly presented.. “But I’ve already been inside?”

Yuuki blushed, pouting a bit as he lifted shaking legs to wrap around Akira’s waist. “Akira…” and if the name came out a bit more breathless and needy than normal heat could excuse, well…

“How could anyone say no to that?” The wicked teen purred, sliding a hand along one of Mishima’s legs, tickling feather light over the gooseflesh of Yuuki’s inner thighs, delighting in the airy gasp that followed, until his hand settled on the fly of his uniform pants. “Are you sure?”

And in that moment all teasing, all joking fell away to let seriousness reign. It didn’t kill the mood, surprisingly, because Mishima found that that moment of concern, the time taken to ensure his consent, was just as arousing as the rest of the other teen. If not moreso. 

“Yes, Akira,” Yuuki answered without hesitation.

A small shiver rippled over the thief’s shoulders, and the teen lifted himself up to unzip and shove the offending fabric of his pants down and away, underwear conspicuously absent. Mishima watched, entranced, because even something like this Akira could make sexy. But when the omega moved to get up to remove them completely, Mishima’s patience reached the end of its tether. His ankles locked in the small of Akira’s back, refusing to let him budge, and the omega gave a small growl to get the message across.

Akira lifted his head, seeing the look of hunger on Mishima’s face, and forgot about disrobing. For a moment Yuuki looked like an emperor, laying back, demanding to be serviced, and Akira’s spine tingled at the idea of obeying that look. Instead he leaned up, and in, licking away a stripe of Mishima’s cooling cum from his stomach as he eased his way into the slick channel.

Yuuki let out a sigh of satisfaction as finally,  _ finally _ something was sliding inside of him just where he needed it. His head tipped back, and instantly Akira was at his throat again, marking the space he’d missed before while he sank deeper still. Once Yuuki could feel the coarse hair Akira’s cock nested in against his sensitive rim, he reached a hand out and wrapped it around the other’s neck, holding him in place, a place Akira was more than happy to oblige. Because his body was clenched tight, muscles twitching, at the pure wet, sucking heat around his cock. Akira gave a small rumbling growl, something he felt in his chest more than heard, but stayed still. Yuuki gave a breathy sort of laugh, and lifted his head to catch Akira’s lips, grazing a kiss over them lightly, unsure if that was okay and yet...and yet Akira was  _ inside _ of him. Surely kissing was okay? 

“You’re thinking too much,” Akira murmured as his lips sought out Mishima’s own again. The kiss was searing, and sweet, a fulfillment of a fantasy Mishima was far too proud to admit to. 

He’d thought Akira was an alpha, after all.

When the need for air demanded it, the two broke apart panting lightly, Mishima shivering slightly as his heat demanded more than just being filled. That only made the thief groan as the tremors seemed to reach his inner walls as they clung to him. Mishima gave a whimper and shifted, giving the go ahead, and Akira slid out a bit before returning, a series of awkward thrusts that still made Mishima shudder and whine, before the raven haired teen got some confidence and started really thrusting.

He watched Yuuki come undone below him with every roll of his hips, as he himself shook from the feeling of the other’s pleasure gripping him. It was hypnotic, almost, the way Mishima’s body shivered and surged, his legs squeezing tighter around the teen’s waist, pulling him in harder with each thrust. Akira was determined, though, to go easy. Faster, deeper, sure, because that was needed, but he didn’t want to hurt the other omega. Yuuki seemed to realize this, in some far off and distant way, his mind not  _ quite _ in sync with the universe at the moment, and growled.

“Please!” 

Akira bit his bottom lip, the sharp sting enough to counteract the immediate response his body wanted to give to that single word. He gave a shake of his shaggy head, instead letting one hand slide up to grasp Yuuki’s neglected cock. Mishima’s head thunked back into the pillow, a inhaled hiss leaking out before a long moan. Akira rubbed the length of him, stroking in counterpoint to his hips, keeping Yuuki keyed up, his moans and whines and all the beautiful sounds filling the room around them rising in octave. It was like he’d tuned his own grunts and moans out, focusing only on the other as he let his control slip just a bit, his orgasm building even as he felt fire shoot up his spine, flames licking his back and scorching across his shoulders. If he didn’t know better— and, for the moment, he wasn’t  _ sure _ he knew better— he’d swear Arsene was rising out of him. But no, this was a different type of feeling. This was going from standing at the edge of the pool, toes dipped in gracefully, to plunging into the water like a thrown boulder and sinking to the very bottom. His head was gone.

Yuuki’s arms left his neck, instead moving to cling to his back and dig blunted, chewed-to-nothing nails in. He shook his head, hair messy and wild and darkened with sweat and fever. He tried to look up at Akira, the other teen had to look good, but his eyes kept clenching shut as Akira’s cock filled and left and filled him again and again, his body moving in time while his own dick jerked and gushed in the other’s hand. He was going down, fast, and he was fine with that, happy to be. But sad, in that he didn’t want it to end. It felt too good and Akira... _ Akira _ was too good. 

Mishima had less than a second for that thought to formulate before said teen was slamming into him and pressing just right on his prostate, sending the dark thought— and just about any other thought he could have hoped to have— flying away into space. His back arched and his mouth opened in a long howl of pleasure as he shook from the lightning crackling over his nervous system, tripping every pleasure sensor at once and overloading the whole thing. He arched higher, pressing into each thrust, begging unconsciously, begging for something his body needed that, had he a brain unmelted by sensation, he knew Akira didn’t have.

Akira grit his teeth, pressing, pushing, chasing that sensation that dangled at the end of his nose like a carrot. Because he knew, he knew what Mishima needed. He needed a knot, and Akira could give and become a lot of things but that was something he just didn’t have. He tossed his head to the side, wild mane flying, as he sought out the knotted toy that could give the other what he was begging for.

“Aaa...Akiraaa” Mishima slurred, eyes lifting to finally meet his own. 

A wave of heat, thick like magma, dripped down his spine.

_ Fuck _ if that wasn’t earth shattering.

The raven teen growled again dangerously low and feral as his orgasm struck him— not as much sneaking up on him, but rather walking up and bashing him over the head with a crowbar. His eyes slammed shut and his head tipped back to let out a savage sounding moan of Mishima’s name as those clutching walls milked him of every drop of his ineffectual seed. He felt pinned in place, once again slammed up against a dungeon wall with a blade to his throat but in the  _ best imaginable way possible _ . And the fire that flared from him like wings crashed all around him at once and he took a deep breath like he’d just come up for air. 

He slumped, rutting still into the other boy even as his arms wanted to turn to jelly while they held him up. Mishima was no better for the earth-shaking moment, still trapped in limbo and traipsing on the edge with no one to give him that  _ push. _ The teen’s cum inside of him was close, so so  _ close _ but still.

Yuuki’s eyes scrunched up, tears glueing his long lashes down as he tried to look up at Akira while an inferno razed his body to the ground.

“I...got you...Yuuki…” Akira managed to find words, slurred, filthy,  _ wrecked _ though they were, as his hand shot out and grabbed the toy. 

Loathe as he was to do it, he eased out of the sweet body beneath him. Mishima’s movements and sounds became frantic and fearful.

“No no nononono  _ please no I’ll be good please, _ ” Mishima sobbed.

Akira surged up as he pulled out all at once, going with the bandaid methodology, taking Yuuki’s lips, sealing away the heart wrenching sounds while he slid the toy in place in the next moment. He gave a single gentle thrust before he pressed in, Yuuki’s hole greedily taking the whole of the knot and clamping down tight as though barring the door. Akira had to roll along with the waves of spasming lust that fired through the other teen’s body as he came, cum coating the both of them. He had to take his mouth back, needed to breathe and unable to hold back the force of the other’s voice any longer. Yuuki was staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes as his body shook and shivered and the sound he made was some kind of sinful cocktail of bliss and want and fulfilment. 

The teen came down agonizingly slowly from that lofty place, but when he did, he crashed, hard, into reality and punched straight through to unconsciousness. Akira watched in astonishment as a last, slow little spurt of pearly cum dribbled from Yuuki’s cock even while he was passed out. The raven thief lowered his head, breath coming quick as the last tendrils of his own orgasm slithered away, leaving the warm sweet lethargy that he’d come to associate with Mune, and only Mune.

Until now.

“Fuck, Yuuki…” Akira murmured as he shifted, body heavy and alien even to himself as he struggled to string too many thoughts together at once. He slid to the side, falling into the soft arms of the bed and pillows, laying along Mishima’s body and nuzzling in close. “I wish I could keep you…”

 

*~*~*~*

Mishima came awake feeling heavy and content, which was still a strange sensation in and of itself. He slowly opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, trying to take stock. He felt...full. A gentle tightening of the right muscles and he had his answer why, though it painted a pretty blush over his cheeks. How debauched could he be? But oh the glorious feeling of it, too. The banks of fire that had threatened his very sanity were safely down to occasional sparks and embers. He smiled and slowly lifted himself up on his elbows, looking down at the mess that he’d made of himself, before turning to the comfortable weight at his side.

Akira still slept, heavy and deep, body curling up a bit as Yuuki moved away on the bed awkwardly. The gentler teen found a blanket within his reach and tucked it around the thief with care and kindness, before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. He started the shower running, and while he waited for the water to warm up, he set about easing the toy out of his pleasantly abused passage. He gave a shuddery sigh of relief when it came away, and immediate choked as he saw it was coated in Akira’s…

And it was all there in his mind’s eye, the way the other had filled him, given him everything and more, the pure look of ecstacy etched into the other’s usually guarded gaze.

He sank down to sit on the edge of the tub and shivered a bit, feeling warmth spring up in his gut like a babbling brook. He waited with baited breath for the dismal despair again, but it seemed impossibly far away, a non-presence, and the teen laughed softly to himself for even worrying. Of course Akira would be different. He was an omega, too.

Guilt prodded him, unable to shank him through the bubblewrap armor of post-orgasmal warm fuzzies like it did during his normal every day. Mishima tilted his head back thoughtfully as he took a deep breath of steam and sighed it out. 

_ Ohhhh yes. _ There was that. 

The white hot fervor in the other’s motions during their coupling was likely the biggest giveaway there was, if Mishima’s nose wasn’t already crammed full of every subdermal scent marker possible. Akira was going to wake up in heat, a proper, nasty heat if the signs were any kind of portent. Mishima rolled the thought around in his cotton-stuffed mind while he slid into the shower, now just the right temperature. He watched his pale skin turn pink then red under the spray, contentedly running a hand through his hair and just standing there basking in it for a moment before he searched for soap and shampoo.

Obviously he owed Akira a great deal.  _ So _ much, in fact, that a muffled voice in Yuuki’s head tried to supply that there was nothing he could do well enough to repay it. He pushed the unpleasant thing away and tilted his head the other way. No, he could give Akira exactly what he wanted, couldn’t he? He just needed...he needed a reason. Akira wasn’t the only one that Mishima owed. There was also the gruff alpha that had forged this safe haven and opened its doors to him without question or hesitation. So, two birds with one stone then.

Now how did he get the alpha through the door?

That was easy enough, his muzzy mind supplied, there was hardly any need to push an alpha into soothing the burn of someone they cared about. Wasn’t that what all those sappy daytime made for tv romance movies that he  _ didn’t _ watch talked about? And Akira and the alpha—  _ Mune _ was what the teen had called him, wasn’t it?— were as close as Mishima had ever seen to that level of devotion.

So. Don’t get the alpha  _ through _ the door. 

Get the alpha  _ to _ the door.

Mishima felt his lips tug up in a smile so foreign his cheek muscles almost spasmed in shock. How long had it been since he’d felt this good?  _ Had _ he ever felt this good? It was almost like floating, his body steering its way through washing itself inside and out while his mind just...drifted. He let out a contented little hum as he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying himself off and ignoring the rosey hue of his skin and the long distance sting of touching it. 

The omega peeked out of the bathroom to see the mop of dark hair still buried in the pile of pillows. He wrapped the towel around himself and tucked the end in, rather unafraid considering...well, everything that had happened in this room, really. He made his way over to the bed on soft feet and scooped his phone up from his pants pocket, unlocking it with a slide of his thumb and checking for any incoming messages.

Of which, there were none.

He pushed that dull ache away too, and he pulled up the UberEats app to place an order. He sauntered over to the door and smirked as he copied the laminated text on the wall into the text boxes and hit send. Now ordered, he made his way to the closet and found another uniform, pulling the clothes on as he tried hard not to giggle at just how much of a diabolical genius he really, really was.

 

*~*~*

Iwai had to thank the kid upstairs. He’d been staring blankly at the half-finished custom piece in front of him for a while without a single direction in mind when the knock came. He’d lifted his head, pulling it out of the thick mire it’d been trapped in, and gone to find a delivery person on the other side with an order for a Yuuki Mishima. The gunsmith took it, and after the person had said the kid had already paid, he locked up again and made his way through towards the nest.

He wasn’t tired, per se. Well, a little, but it was nothing more than static tired— the kind of low level tired you get from being an adult in a shitty world where your own shitty past can waltz through the door and start extorting you at any minute. No, he was waiting for something. Most likely a text from the Brat. He knew being near the other omega would throw the fluffy teen into heat faster than anything, and the Brat’s heats were...rough to begin with. 

Not that there was much he could do.

It was a trap built of honor and promise. He’d provide the Mishima kid with the safety and seclusion he needed...at the expense of his own sanity as his omega—

_ Not _ his. Just. That was a train that did not need to leave the station. He’d chalk it up to primitive alpha thinking, possessive was a constant battle he drew even in.

Nevermind how much he ached inside for it to be true.

He came to a stop in front of the door and stared at it for a moment, taking a deep heady whiff of the scents leaking from around it. The curl of heat, the twist of sex, and the straight suckerpunch that was the scent of two omegas’ lust spilled over the sheets and each other.  _ Fuck _ what had the two been up to in here?

As if his imagination hadn’t already supplied the answer with crystal clear examples in the dirty movie theatre of his hindbrain. He tamped down the reel as it tried rolling again and set the food on the ground. He lifted a hand, then bit his lip and shrugged out of his jacket. He slid it off and folded it, setting it next to the food before lifting his fist to knock.

He’d planned on knocking, then high tailing it down the stairs to let the two eat in peace.

The door swung open before he could even touch it.

Iwai hissed like he’d been burned as the wall of pheromones assaulted him.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Iwai growled.

Akira lifted his head, blinking sleep from his eyes, body engulfed in flames as it caught the scent of alpha nearby. He rubbed his eyes sluggishly and turned, everything feeling heavy and leaden. He saw Mune in the doorway, body tense, scowl tight, and arms…

The gunsmith bit back a groan as the tantalizing teen ahead of him licked his lips. Of course,  _ of course _ ...he’d never done a kind thing in his life that didn’t bite him in the ass at least once.

Mune’s jacket was gone somewhere and Akira couldn’t care less where, because all he saw now were those strong arms covered in ink that he just wanted to lick. He felt a predatory edge flare up as his lips quirked in a smirk. He crawled over the bed like a panther in the jungle, all lithe grace and feline seduction, hips swaying as he moved closer to his mate—

Here, in the throes of his heat, he could be honest with himself about that.

Iwai forced his eyes away from the purely sexual being prowling towards him to the door that still stood open by unseen hands.

“What the hell did you do?” He tried not to sound angry, because angry wouldn’t help. And he wasn’t really  _ angry _ .

“He needs you,” came the soft voice from the other side. Soft, but not afraid, which was good.

“And what about you?  _ Fuck _ !” Iwai swore as the teen on the bed had enough of being ignored and pounced. The older man was able to catch him, and hold back his wandering hands, but that wasn’t enough to stop the raven thief from sinking his teeth into Iwai’s throat and sucking  a mark.

Mishima poked his head out from behind the door and smiled a bit. “Did you bring the food?”

“S’on the floor, I’d hand it to ya, but I’ve got my hands full.”

“Then, I’m good.” Mishima chuckled softly.

Iwai took a moment more to look at the other. His eyes narrowed and Mishima’s smile flickered for a moment under the scrutiny. The gunsmith gathered Akira’s wrists into one hand and reached out, slowly, with the other towards the younger teen. Mishima didn’t move, until he felt the callused hand on his cheek, gentle, light, and platonic. The blue haired teen soaked up the contact like a starving sponge, leaning into it just a little even though all he wanted was to press closer. The hand slid up to his forehead, then down to his neck, where it tugged back the high collar of his uniform shirt enough for Iwai to see.

Mishima let out a little chirp and stepped back, and Iwai let his arm fall, still watching the other closely.

“What do ya feel right now?” Iwai’s voice was getting heavier, his control not so much slipping as carefully unfurling. It would be hard to be unaffected by a horny Akira in all his fluffy sexuality plastered to you trying to bite his way under your skin, even without the hormonal kool-aid they were all downing in. 

“I’m fine, really!”

“Not how,  _ what _ ?” Iwai clarified with patience.

Mishima blinked at him, then looked back, face straight. “Good. Happy. Floaty?”   


Iwai sucked in a sharp breath, followed by a soft swear. A sharp nip at his stomach caused his eyes to shift, down to where Akira was kneeling and had managed to ruck up his shirt and get at his skin without hands, while Iwai was occupied. His eyes swung back from one to the other, then he shook his head.

“One fire at a time,” he told himself, and used his free hand to scoop up the food bag and hold it out to Mishima, who took it with a nod. “Lemme get his heat down a level or two, then you ‘n me are gonna talk. The shop’s locked up if you wanna head down and hang out there. Wouldn’t blame ya none if ya did.”

Mishima blushed a bit. “Uhm.”

Iwai’s inner alpha pricked up his ears, but the man tamped it down before anyone could notice. “You can stay, if you want. We don’t judge. Gonna warn ya, gets a little wild.”

The blue haired teen nodded and took his food to the desk, laying it all out for himself and pretending for the moment that he would keep his back to them for privacy.

They both knew that was just a cover.

“And as for you,” Iwai pulled on Akira’s wrists until the unruly leader stood again, desperation warring with seduction for his face. “You have been an absolute brat.”

“You like it.” Akira smirked, his confidence shattered by the shiver that ran down his spine when Iwai growled in response. “Fuck me. Bend me over, press me to the wall, hold me down, but  _ fuck me _ .”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get there when I’m good an’ ready,” Iwai rumbled, his eyes raking over the trembling teen in his grasp. “You need to learn patience,  _ Boy _ .”

A bolt of lightning snaked down Akira’s spine at the word, and the teen whined low and long as he melted against Iwai. He licked his lips and nuzzled up under Iwai’s five o’clock shadowed chin. “Oh...”

The gunsmith brought a hand up to lift the teen’s head, bringing him out from the hollow of his throat so he could look into eyes fully submerged in lust, the face and body pliant and eager. “It burns, doesn’t it? We’re going to take care of that. Now be a good bBoy, and strip. But if I see one finger outta place you know what’ll happen.”

Akira nodded quickly, pulling back though it physically pained him to do so, and trying hard to focus on the fact that he had clothes on-- and clothes were antithetical to everything he stood for right now. He rushed to pull everything off, not caring what happened to it anymore.  He was pretty sure he broke the sound barrier in his haste, but now he was naked and shivering under the heated gaze of his alpha. And while his hands twitched and wanted so badly to wander, he needed Mune to douse the flames, and the fastest way to that wasn’t pushing back.

Iwai crossed his arms over his chest, and Akira could’t help the whimper as slick dribbled down his legs. What those strong arms did to him...it was criminal. But the show stopper was still to come.

“Daddy,” Akira murmured in a tentative voice, trying to behave, trying to play the Good Boy that all three occupants of the room knew he wasn’t. “Please?”

“Always demure an’ polite when it suits ya, huh?” The lollipop stick traveled from one side of the alpha’s mouth to the other and the teen’s eyes followed right along with it. “Ya  _ did _ do as you were told though…”

Akira bit his lower lip and looked past long eyelashes up at Mune, batting them lightly. “Daddy, I need…”

The thief watched the muscle jump under long sleeves as Iwai responded to the title by clenching and unclenching his fists. Akira could feel his control slipping, which was  _ good _ , but not enough.

“What d’ya need, Boy?” Iwai quirked an eyebrow.

“Put me down,” Akira whispered, shivering at his own words.

In the next instant Iwai was standing over him, looking down in the omega’s wide eyes gone nearly black in their haze. The alpha cupped his lover’s cheek, feeling the heat seeping in, and stroked gently with his thumb when Akira pressed into his palm. “You stuck, Brat?”

Akira nodded impatiently, his omega-brain howling at the hold up while his rational mind relaxed at the check in. Because Iwai was careful, where Akira refused to be.

“Alright, Boy, let’s get you outta that head of yours.” Iwai’s hand lowered to Akira’s bare shoulder and pushed the omega back.

Akira gladly fell backwards into the squish of the bed, immediately crawling up towards the head of the bed to give Iwai space. The gunsmith gave him a feral smirk, and the teen whined. His alpha unbuckled his belt and then his pants, discarding them. He crawled onto the bed after his needy little omega, a wild panther stalking its prey.

And all Akira wanted was to be devoured.

Iwai’s strong, coarse hands gripped Akira’s slim ankles and jerked him forward towards him, while his head shot up to claim the teen’s lips for his own. He wasted no time in slotting himself between those long legs, his hands sliding from those delicate ankles up strong calves to quivering thighs that spread wider in welcome. The boy was a mess, slick spreading everywhere, body trembling, and feeding Iwai the sweetest of moans with every brush of heated skin. Iwai broke the kiss, leaning his head back for a moment to spit the lollipop to the side before returning to the intense fervor.

Akira whined and whimpered, though the sounds were swallowed whole by the sheer force that was Mune ignited. The thief’s hands shot up and grabbed at the older man’s arms, pushing, pulling, fumbling almost in his urgency before he let a wild snarl fly and yanked at the hem of the sweater that prevented him from his ultimate goal even while his hips jerked in search of friction. Iwai growled right back and took those hands in one of his own and shoved them over the teen’s head, pinning the wriggling omega. He pulled his head back a fraction, pulling away from that sweet mouth only to make firm eye contact that the omega was insisting on ducking now. 

The alpha squeezed Akira’s wrists, while his other hand came up and gripped his jaw firmly, forcing the other to look at him. When all he got in return were tightly shut eyes, Iwai clenched his jaw.

So. One of  _ those _ heats.

Iwai chuckled low and soft, and smirked when one of those bright eyes peeked open just a touch in confusion.

“Don’t worry,” Iwai rumbled. “Daddy’s gotcha.”

Iwai pressed Akira’s wrists to the bed a bit harder, making a point, before letting go of them. When the omega didn’t move, Mune moved on, grabbing the bottom of his sweater and peeling up over his head. He instantly felt the weight of the omega’s gaze, but didn’t let it hurry or slow him any, even as a light blush passed over his face. 

To think that this, more than his cock, was what the omega reverted to needing most during his worst heats, could turn even the most hardened of men’s head. 

He tossed the sweater aside, leaving him in his undershirt. He heard a soft gasp from beside them and glanced over at the other omega, who’s face burst into flames before he could hide away in his food again. 

Now that the long sleeves were gone, Akira could drink in the full view of those strong arms he loved so much, but more than that was the world of color and ink that lived on Mune’s skin. Around his right arm a fearsome dragon coiled its sinewy yellow body, each of its many scales painstakingly etched and shaded to realistic relief. Wicked claws sprang out, and in one the dragon crushed a huge pearl, the shards flying out of its grip as it broke the age old commandment. Flames of bright orange licked along its body, interspersed with bursts of chrysanthemums in blood reds, vibrant teals, and deep blues.

A long koi jumped up his left arm, climbing a waterfall of black and blue, delicate fins carved as though made of silk, flowing and long, its red and black scales highlighted in sharp detail as swam amongst pale pink blushed sakura petals. Large lotus blooms bobbed alongside it sporadically in crimson. 

Iwai stripped off the last of his clothes, tossing the undershirt to join the rest, and felt two pairs of eyes scorching him. The other omega wasn’t even bothering to hide or pretend now as he stared. 

The koi climbed the waterfall up into swirls of clouds, which spilled over to paint the backdrop of Iwai’s chest, sharp splashes and lazy curled waves of water mingling interwoven seamlessly, doing the world a disservice in hiding just how fit and tight the gunsmith’s body really was. Maple leaves ranging from healthy autumn orange to dead and wilting brown swirled in and out of the mix, more sakura and lotus joining in. Two fierce guardian Foo Dogs snarled out at the world from their perches in the heavens on his pecs, one a blending of grays with blazing red eyes and golden mane and mustache. The other was a teal with grayscale features and piercing blue eyes. Each raised a clawed paw out, mirroring each other, long razor tipped toes both a threat and a warning. 

The clouds licked up along his shoulders up to his throat, right to where his usual turtleneck rested, and twin Onis in red and blue ghoulishly bared their fangs, wide eyes glaring.

Akira’s body arched as a wave of pure want raced through him at the sight of it all, the danger it represented; the truths it told about the man above him, the strength to sit through the pain and mark himself so thoroughly against society’s wishes. 

But it was Mishima who got the grandview of the broad planes of Iwai’s back, where a sakura tree stretched across the expanse width and lengthwise, the trunk starting low at his back from an isolated island surrounded by a rushing, raging, jagged river. Seated against the trunk, head bowed, blade sheathed but standing in case of ambush, slept a man in the armor of the samurais of old. The tree shot higher and spread its many intricately displayed branches, heavy with the bursts of blushing pink flowers as they bloomed and rained around him, unseen by the sleeping warrior, each petal drawn individually, skilfully.

It was enough to take the young man’s breath away, his mouth running dry as a wave of his own heat surged up in response. Well, there was a kink he hadn’t quite been surprised about.

Iwai rolled his shoulders just for show, the branches swaying in the wind, before he looked down at Akira. “This what you wanted, Boy?”

Akira could only nod, his hands gripping the sheets overhead hard enough to rip a bit as he struggled not to touch. “Yes, daddy.”

The alpha rumbled deep from his chest and leaned back down, licking and mouthing at the omega’s throat while his hands made themselves busy running down the boy’s sides, leaving fire in their wake as he ran his blunted nailed hard enough to feel all the way down and over his hips to settle between the kid’s thighs. One wrapped around the achingly reddened cock leaking precum profusely over his fist, while the other dove down to press two fingers into the hot, slick channel. Akira’s walls immediately grabbed them, while the teen himself moaned wildly, bucking up into Iwai’s hand and then back towards the fingers that easily began thrusting in and out of him. Iwai was quick to add a third, knowing the Brat could only wait so long before things got painful, and the man was a master of toeing that line in the most pleasurable of ways. 

It didn’t hurt that his own neglected length ached to fill his omega like it meant life or death. He could keep that voice contained.

Akira jerkily rolled his hips, trying to hit the crest of each wave and sail to his own completion, and Mune was more than willing to oblige. He stroked the poor boy’s cock, thumb teasing pearly dribbles of pre out with each flick of his wrist, while his fingers thrust and stretched the loosening hole, his middle finger searching as he went.  And then it was like striking a match, his callused finger finding that sweet spot and pressing hard enough to light the teen up like an electric eel. 

Akira saw white, then bursts of other colors, as he rode the alpha’s fingers straight into the maelstrom of his orgasm, his body spurting, covering Iwai’s fist while slick drenched his other hand. Not that Akira had any mind for it-- no, he was miles away on smooth seas, floating in the rosy sunshine. Still, a storm cloud lurked, not quite enough to ruin the glow, but enough to shorten its lifespan.

The gunsmith pulled his fingers back and gripped the teen’s knees, pulling them up so that those long smooth legs draped over his shoulders. The head of his cock drooled at the heat and slick it just barely touched as Iwai waited, watching the omega carefully. When Akira’s eyes rolled back from the back of his head, Iwai leaned in and bit at his ear.

“You look so good when you cum, Boy. Such a perfect sight. Know what your Daddy wants more though?”

Akira whimpered, not quite back from his trip but settling into the cottony warmth of sex. “Mm...nn…” he tried to work his silver tongue around a heavy mouth. “Haa...Please Daddy...please give it to me. I need it in me.” A shudder went through the man above him, and Akira smirked internally, unable to do more than grin loosely on the outside. “Fuck me, Daddy.”

“Pretty Boy, the things you do to me,” he rasped, voice giving out as all the blood ran south.

And with a simple glide of his hips he filled the teen beneath him, both of them groaning in equal parts lust and relief, before Iwai set a quick and rough rhythm. Akira arched sharply as Iwai’s cock slid home, the Jacob’s Ladder of barbells on the underside rubbing in all the right places, raking sensation and need up as they passed. Iwai pounded into the teen who only moaned and wailed for more, arching and pressing back into every thrust, mixing words with sounds fit for beasts as he gripped the sheets, trying to find leverage. Mune was quick to find that spot that made him scream.

“Fuuuuuck yessss,” Akira howled, tapering into a hiss of ecstacy. “Daddy!”

Mune panted softly above him, getting off just as much on the bliss and words that came from his omega as the feeling of those drenched walls’ slippery grip on his dick. He could feel the need to knot rising, the alpha in him standing up, but it only made the man growl and shift. He dropped the omega’s legs to his side and pulled out.

“Nonono pleasssssee Daddy” Akira begged, tears blossoming along his lashes.

“Not done with you, Boy. Never done,” Iwai rumbled back as he turned Akira onto his side.

He moved behind him and used one strong arm to prop the teen’s leg up by the knee while he angled his hips and then thrust back into that clutching heat, bringing deeper moans from the teen to match his deeper thrusts. His hips slowed a bit to make each drag in and out count, but soon he had found that speedy tempo without somehow sacrificing the depth. Akira threw his head back, moaning out Iwai’s name like it was a hymnal.

Iwai took the opportunity to mouth and bite at the pale skin of his lover’s throat and shoulder, biting deep possessive marks alongside scandalously red hickies. The bed beneath them rocked, but trial and error had gotten them to a damn sturdy bed with padding at the walls to prevent damage and telegraphing their fucking to the neighbors...not that there were any, or that the room wasn’t already sound proofed.

Akira’s hand found Mune’s where it held his leg, and the teen gripped his forearm tightly as he shuddered and panted in the throes.

“Daddy, Daddy, so good,” He whimpered, so far gone his voice was soft and breathy. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me hard, give me everything, want it, need it, so bad!”

Iwai bit hard into the teen’s shoulder and slammed his length in, mouthing his way up to Akira’s ear to growl. “You need it, huh? You do, don’t ya, you need to be fucked and you need to be filled.”

“Yes,” Akira whined, thrashing.

“You want more than a fuck, Boy, don’t lie.”

“No, no, never lie, never a li-aaaah,” a particularly rough thrust against his prostate stole Akira’s tongue.

“Pretty Boy like you, you gotta be  _ bred _ .”

The teen’s eyes widened, his mouth trying to form words but only groans and moans coming forth.

“S’okay, Boy, Daddy’s gotcha.” Iwai nuzzled almost tenderly against the other’s neck. “You wanna be bred, huh? Full of my cock, cum, and knot til you’re so full you can taste me in the back of your throat?”

A tiny voice managed a “please” amidst the sounds.

Iwai moved slightly, pulling back from Akira’s grip and letting go of his leg. While his hips kept rocking, he took the teen’s hand and had him bend his knee to hold himself, opening himself up once again, keening when Iwai’s now free hand slid to where they were meeting and toying at his rim. He felt his knot swelling, he could only fight nature for so long. Each thrust had it stretching the tight muscle, the slick easing the way thankfully, before pulling it back on the way out. Akira was shaking like a leaf, his breaths short and ragged as he tried to breathe and howl at the same time.

“Knot...me...Daddy!”

With a final slam Iwai’s knot shoved in and stuck, pressing against the omega’s prostate, setting him off on another, longer voyage to nirvana while his body spasmed and his walls squeezed Iwai for every last drop of the seed he flooded him with. The alpha growled Akira’s name into his ear as he pressed close, wrapping his arms around his omega and holding him tight while he buried his face in pale shaking shoulders.

Iwai let himself sink into the mattress and the wild intoxicating scent of his omega, faint from afar, but as close as he was, and as much as he was looking for it, powerful now. He breathed in deep and sighed on the exhale, his body singing with endorphins and neural overload. Akira was long gone, his breath just as hurried but his body completely lax and limp. Iwai could just barely see the Brat’s eyes closed under the fluffy fringe of black, and nodded a bit to himself in satisfaction. He was out like a light for the time being, but a small smile still tugged at his lips.

The alpha watched Akira sleep for a few moments while the surging zing of sex fizzled and faded from his system, never staying long enough. Once he’d regained his wind, and his skin was only slightly buzzing, he turned his head back to look at the other omega in the room.

Mishima ducked his head, but Iwai still caught a flash of bright red cheeks and mortification. He shifted a bit awkwardly in the chair, his hands conspicuously down between his legs. His food lay half eaten and probably cold where the teen had forgotten it.

“Doin’ alright kid?” Iwai grunted, trying to clear just a little of the gruff from his voice when his words made the omega twitch. He scented the air, looking for any kind of negative scent but found none. “Ahh...there’s pants in the closet, and a shower-- but you probably already know that.”

“Yes.” Mishima’s voice was doing its best to shrink out of existence, and he wished he could follow it.

Iwai nodded a bit and shifted, trying not to wake Akira up but dreading the crick in his neck that talking over his shoulder was gonna leave. It did little good, and he grumbled low in annoyance. He pulled the blanket up over Akira’s hips in an attempt at unnecessary modesty before rolling them both over completely so he could face Mishima, thankful that the omega in his arms didn’t even stir with the movement.

“I’m sorry,” and for all the shame it carried, you’d think the kid had murdered a whole country’s worth of puppies.

“Nah, s’nothin to be sorry for. Pretty sure I’d of gotten my rocks off too in your place.” Iwai blinked a bit and snorted a laugh. “S’basically porn”

Mishima squeaked, his face blazing hot. “B-but not people you know!”

“Depends on who you know,” Iwai shrugged. “Don’t stress about it. If anyone should be embarrassed here, it’d be me.”

“Whatever for?” Mishima asked, bewildered. The two of them had been pure, red-hot sin, what was there to be ashamed of in that? He knew he’d sure as hell never look half as good.

“Ain’t exactly kosher, what I’m wearin’.”

The blue haired teen looked over the sight of the gunsmith’s back again. He wondered, not for the first time, what it felt like, to do something so extreme. “It’s beautiful.”

Iwai sighed softly. “It’s heavy.”

Mishima realized he should have been more concerned. He was in the presence of a clearly dangerous man — an  _ alpha _ yakuza. Tattoos may have slowly been trickling into society, but there was no mistaking the sheer volume and style for anything so harmless. And he heard things. Stories of gullible omegas snatched up in alleyways or lured into yakuza clutches to be sold off who knew where. He should have been terrified, and running for the hills, but he wasn’t.

It didn’t feel scary anymore.

_ He _ didn’t feel dangerous.

The teen sighed a bit. Not that his judgement was any kind of decent anymore. But part of him wondered if maybe it wasn’t just for the best anyway. Whatever happened.

“I can hear you thinkin’ from here, kid.” Iwai’s voice broke through Mishima’s thoughts. “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, nothing,” Mishima murmured, looking away. “Stupid things.”

“Ain’t stupid if ya gotta think about it that hard.” The alpha shifted again, feeling the heavy hand of sleep pressing against him. He shook it off as best he could. “Anything you wanna ask, ask.”

Mishima hesitated, convincing himself that there was nothing he needed to ask, it was all perfectly straight forward, and as soon as his heat was over he’d leave this place and go back to his old life and everything would...be...the same. His eyes widened.

_ Everything would be the same. _

The world dropped out from beneath his feet and he felt himself standing on nothing, waiting for gravity to catch on.

_ Everything _ would be the  _ same  _ except for  _ him _ . 

Iwai cursed under his breath as he watched all the color drain from the kid’s face, his shoulders starting to shake. Of  _ course _ he’d drop as soon as Iwai was unable to move. Damn it.

“Hey, hey you’re okay,” Iwai rumbled, trying to catch the kid before he fell so far in on himself he disappeared forever. “Talk to me, kid.”

Tears spilled, the teen trembling in his seat, eyes vacant and unseeing. “I don’t...want to leave,” he whimpered.

And of course, Iwai was a realist. He’d have to go back, they all did, they all had lives outside of the nest waiting to step back into. He took a deep breath.

“You’re always welcome,” the alpha soothed. “Not just up here, not just for heats. We’ve got you.”

Panic gripped the teen tight, stealing his breath from him, a tiny shaky whimper escaping. Iwai cursed low.

“Yuuki.”

Mishima’s eyes snapped to the sleep-gentled voice that managed to cut through the rising despair. He bit his lower lip, looking into half open gray eyes peeking out from under fluffy black fringe.

Akira lifted a hand out towards the scared omega, invitation clear. Mishima stared down at it like it might have been a viper.

“Come to bed, Yuuki,” the thief murmured.

Mishima looked up, eyes darting from Akira’s outstretched hand to Iwai’s face then back again. The alpha immediately held out his hand alongside his omega’s.

“No tricks,” Iwai promised. “No expectations.”

“Just us,” Akira finished with a warm smile.

The blue haired teen looked at their hands, hesitating. A part of him still screamed that it was a trap, but that voice was far softer than it had ever been before. It wasn’t even complaining about the alpha he’d be in bed with, which was startling in itself. It was the hope of something more, and that something never coming to be. The heartache that getting attached could bring him.

But his heart already hurt regularly, and he couldn’t resist the chance to pretend just a little while longer that he had people who cared about him.

He stepped forward and took Akira’s hand, leaning in to nuzzle Iwai’s. He let the two of them tug him in to curl up, body pressed close to Akira’s. The mixed scents of the three of them together melted the tension from his tight shoulders and he sank into the bed. Akira slid his arms around him, pulling him closer, and nuzzled down into Mishima’s shoulder with a soft, happy little sigh.

Iwai let out a pleasant rumble. Mishima felt his eyes becoming heavy, the adrenaline from his panic draining to leave behind exhaustion. He blinked quickly a few times, trying to get some control, but they just wouldn’t stay open. Admitting defeat, he snuggled in close to Akira and let sleep take him, curled up with the duo, safe in their nest.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is part one of the series. The rest are on their way. But I couldn't leave it at just this, and it was getting long. I just love these three so damn much~!
> 
> Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
